Christoph screamed with each swing of his twin swords, blood spraying out of his wounds in mimicry of the arcs made by his crystal blades. Closing both hands around his own weapon, Cliff shifted backwards across the sand as he parried the sudden rush of attacks.

“Did that hurt?” Cliff asked. “I might not be able to do much about your bones, but the stomach really is fragile, isn’t it?”

Christoph roared in reply, stepping onto the offensive as the knight spoke. A high slash, low slash, a thrust followed by a double sweeping attack, Cliff avoided them all. Although he hadn’t been expecting his opponent to be so proficient fighting with two weapons, this much was still nothing. Christoph’s lunges were sloppy, his footwork excessive without consideration for the terrain, and his aim poor. The Archbishop would have had him ejected from the compound for such a display.

“I’m almost disappointed,” Cliff said, slashing into Christoph’s leg before stepping back out of range.

“Fuck you,” Christoph replied. His stomach wound had healed closed, but his organs had yet to repair- no, regrow. The knight’s attack hadn’t damaged his heart or lungs, but the wound had been grievous nonetheless. Hunching over as his muscles began to string back together, Christoph tried to ignore the mixture of hunger and pain that blossomed through his being.

Ducking under the knight’s next swing, his retaliation was swatted aside by the flash of a longsword. Had Cliff always been so strong? The adventurer’s aura was on par with Gideon’s, and his skill with the sword perhaps higher still. To have achieved such power with the bow in addition to that, just what kind of people were those siblings? Christoph gritted his teeth as the wound in his leg began to heal over. The adventurer’s weapons didn’t seem to be poisoned, but he still couldn’t be sure.

Darting forwards, Cliff aimed a near-vertical slash at Christoph from above. When that was parried, he kicked out at the wounded man’s leg, switching to a two-handed diagonal slash when that failed as well. Christoph winced as he caught the blow on his crossed blades, sliding backwards through the sand for a moment before buckling under the weight.

…

“This was the archbishop’s order, then?” Lucius extended his feet down the stair-like seats, leaning backwards to stretch his arms out over the empty spaces to his sides. Above him, he could see Lord Benvolio leaning forwards over the walls of his spectator’s box.

“That’s correct,” Sierra replied.”It sits poorly with our father that this man remains alive.”

“While I can understand his motives, I do wish he would let me know next time,’ Lucius said “If the Lord takes offense to our actions, we might end up with a troublesome debt on our hands.”

“Could you not glean the plans from looking into our thoughts?” Sierra asked.

“I could,” the young man replied, “but I have chosen not to out of concern for your privacy.”

“We are your guards in this expedition,” Sierra said. “Putting such worries above the mission is unwise. Father most likely did not consider this a possibility, and I apologize for our apparent secrecy.”

“I see.” Lucius gestured down to where Cliff was fighting below. “Aren’t you worried about your brother?”

“Not at all,” Sierra replied. “Cliff is well above the league of that man. I have seen only three people in this entire city that could surpass his strength.”

Lucius glanced up behind him, seeing a pair of furred feet protruding over the short wall of Benvolio’s private seats. “You should be wary,” he said. “Those three might be special indeed, but there are many others here who could still pose a threat to you and Cliff.”

…

“That’s enough of that, I think,” Cliff said, stepping back to adjust his grip on his sword. “It’s time to finish this farce.”

Christoph responded by absorbing one of his swords, thickening his right-hand blade into a two-handed weapon. His stomach had still not recovered, and a score of additional wounds marked his skin, but he had no time to take a break. The clothes he’d bought dripped heavily with blood, and his entire body beneath his neck was stained bright red in the late morning sun. If he couldn’t keep Cliff’s blade at bay then the only option was to change his tactics. With this weapon, even one attack would be enough to end this duel.

It was Cliff who moved to engage Christoph first, their swords clashing with enough force to leave ripples in the sand below. Preparing to deflect the knight’s follow-up swing, Christoph flinched as mana poured into the steel blade, flames bursting into life a mere foot from his face. The attack forced him backwards, his movement stunted by the absence of half his abdominal muscles.

Cliff grinned as he forced his target into a retreat, the flaming sword sweeping around in brilliant arcs as he pressed his advantage. With each blow, he felt his sword pushing closer to Christoph’s flesh, his enemy falling further off-balance. Increasing the weight of his attacks, he advanced on the man before him, ignoring the heat of the blade he swung. He would not waste his mana by shielding himself from such insignificant warmth.

“Jesus Christ!” Christoph gathered his strength, forcing the adventurer to a halt as he beat the fire-clad sword aside. “A flaming sword? Give me a break!”

Mustering his last reserves of mana, he felt the energy flowing into his blade as the inscriptions appeared in the surface of the crystal. If that bastard bowman wanted to play with enchantments, he could do the same. Reducing his blade back to the normal size, Christoph began his counter-attack.

Dodging back from the first strike, Cliff was forced backwards as a stream of mana slashed out from the tip of Christoph’s sword. An air attack? No, this was unchanneled mana! The flames on his sword disappeared as he shifted his energy to defense, a ward appearing to absorb the attack. Even if his opponent mixed magic into his attacks, he was well-trained enough to nullify something of that level. Focusing on Christoph’s sword, he resolved to ignore the enchantment altogether.

Making his decision, Cliff felt his heat skip a beat when his ward shattered at the touch of Christoph’s crystal blade. That mana shield should have only tried to withstand the enchantment, not the blade itself! Parrying the weapon aside, he stopped the attack just before the slash of magic would have bitten into his arm. He’d set it up to defend against magical attacks only, so why… did Christoph’s sword itself hold enough mana to trigger the shield? If so, it’d be a waste of energy trying to reinforce the wards until they could withstand the pressure of his blows.

Christoph poured his strength into his attacks, forcing the knight back towards his side of the arena. Instead of following immediately, he levelled a flurry of strikes at his enemy from a distance. Realizing that he was no longer close enough to parry the blade, Cliff dodged backwards, pulling his wards back up as best he could.

Leaping after the retreating adventurer, Christoph drew his other sword, steadily increasing the force of his strikes. His mouth threatened to split into a grin as several of his attacks finally landed, but almost at the same time he realized his mistake. Screaming once more, he brought his swords together into one massive blade before Cliff could form a counter. Catching the blow on his sword before it could strike true, the knight was launched across the sand.

Leaping to his feet, Cliff prepared to receive Christoph’s next attack, but nothing came. Instead, the wounded man swayed on his feet, sword retracting into his arms as he began to fall. He was spent?! Sprinting across the gap, Cliff took aim at his opponent’s neck. If the match was allowed to end with Christoph’s collapse, he would fail his mission. Even if his target did possess crystal bones, it should be possible to sever his head if he was careful enough… Reaching his target, Cliff began to swing his sword. Lord Benvolio would no doubt be displeased by his actions, but that wasn’t something that could be helped at this point. Cliff’s blade swung true, slashing through the air to collide against an impenetrable ward with a flash of mana.

“Okay.” Benvolio’s voice held the soft tone of disappointment, but was still loud enough to echo out over the coliseum stands. “Match over!”

…

Leila grimaced down at the wine that had soaked into her fur-covered feet, flicking her legs off before dropping them back down into the puddle with a sigh. “Hey,” she said to the elf beside her. “Can’t you do something about this mess?”

Diana glanced down to where a circular patch of dry wood had formed around her chair. Shifting her eyes to where Roethus and Benvolio enjoyed similar dryness, she smiled up towards the beast-woman. “I have no idea what you mean,” she said. “What mess?”

“Where did all this wine come from anyway?” Gideon asked, leaning around Leila and Diana to look over the contents of the box. Almost a small balcony of sorts, there didn’t seem to be anything there besides chairs. “Did someone break a barrel?”

“It’s an enchanted cup,” Roethus said. “It… appears to have spilled.”

“Shhh,” Benvolio said. “Look, he has two swords again.”

“Ah, he’s just throwing his mana around without even thinking,” Diana said. “Always so reckless.”

“Ah!” Benvolio rose from his seat, bouncing excitedly with his hands on the railing. “He put his swords together! It’s a big one now!”

“He’s finished,” Leila said. “What a waste of energy.”

“Eh…” Benvolio frowned down at the contestants before letting out a sigh. Waving his hand, he stopped Cliff’s final attack. “Okay! Match over!”

“Well that went about as I had expected,” Diana said, slumping forwards to lean her forehead against the railing. To think he’d wasted so much time working on those enchantments instead of just researching his opponents…

“Off the railing!” Benvolio said, shoving the elven woman aside. Shrieking as she fell, Diana flailed out before landing bodily in the puddle of wine surrounding Leila’s chair. If he couldn’t rest his legs on the wooden rail, nobody could.

“Ah.” Lifting her legs, the beast lord splashed her feet down into the puddle, covering the elf’s face in crimson liquid. “That’s a good look for you,” she said. “Too bad it’s just wine though.”

“Hey,” Diana said, sitting up to glare over to where Benvolio stood wide-eyed before his seat. “I get to kill this tramp now, right?”

…

“Finally awake?” Lucius raised an eyebrow as Christoph frowned up at him from the bench. “The staff dragged you over here and ran off somewhere else. They did the same to Gideon too, actually. Is that just regular procedure?”

“What are you doing here?” Christoph asked, rolling half off the wooden seat to spit out a mouthful of blood. “I don’t suppose you had a hand in all this?”

“Of course not,” Lucius replied. “It seems as though Archbishop Kale is calling for your death.”

“So, what do you want then?” Leaning against the cold bricks of the stadium wall, Christoph pulled himself into a sitting position. He was in one of the rooms under the coliseum seating again, stripes of sunlight streaming in through the barred gate.

“I came to apologize.” The high schooler bowed his head to the older man, glasses glinted as he moved. “My subordinates have caused you harm.”

“Apologies are cheap,” Christoph said with a glare. “Aren’t you some sort of saint? Couldn’t you just read their minds and find out what they were planning?”

“Why does everyone assume I just go around reading everyone’s mind?” Lucius asked, tilting his head to the side. “Is that what you would do?”

“You really going to ask me that while you’re reading my mind?” Christoph gave the young man a flat look.

“This is different,” Lucius said, waving his hands innocently. “I’m just checking what… oh, Liam really did a lot of work on you, huh?”

“How much can you see?” Christoph asked. “If you can point out the changes, I’ll forgive your little knights this time.”

“Hmmm…” The young saint paused for a moment. “Okay, that’s a deal.” Tilting his head again, Lucius leaned forwards until he was making eye contact from an uncomfortably short distance away.

“Is this necessary?” Stifling his displeasure, Christoph returned his gaze.

“Of course,” Lucius replied. “Let’s see… he hid your past, and your memories of the other world… He implanted knowledge about this world to replace it, and he seems to have meddled with your memories of Emilia?”

Turning away, Christoph shuddered at the mention of the beast-woman. “Is there any way to undo the changes?”

“No idea,” Lucius said. “Liam could, I suppose.”

“Can you see why he changed my memories of the village?” Christoph asked. “Did he not want me to return?”

“Who knows?” Lucius asked. “Maybe he didn’t want you wasting the time that Progress had given you.”

“Progress?” Christoph shook his head. “I’ve never even met the god.”

“Serve whom you wish, but serve.” Lucius looked up at where two figures had appeared in the center of the arena. “You will not get far in this world without the strength of a god. Your partner knows this well.”